At Home With The Villains
by Professor V
Summary: Evil geniuses unite! Click here for my misadventures with Dr Robotnik and his family of metallic minions in this bizarre take on the SonicLivesWithMe story. EP 4 UP: A special spoofing of Twas the Night Before Christmas for y'all. Reviews appreciated.
1. Moving Day

Helloooo! It's me again with a brand new continuous series - a first for us here at Overkill Industries **XD**

As we all know, there've been plenty of the old "Sonic and pals come to live with me" stories. Some are very entertaining, others are downright lame and some are more random than finding a hippopotamus in your toothpaste. But one of the things I've noticed it's that it's _always_ the _good_ guys that hang with the author. And as an amateur supervillain, I got to thinking - why be like everyone else when I can have the _bad_ guys come and live with me, and instead of telling adventures about Sonic and I saving the world, tell adventures of Robotnik and I trying to conquer it? Let's face it, it'd be a laugh.

It's also worth noting that this is merely a fun wee side-project, so the length between chapter updates could be pretty long at times. I'm really just writing it from the seat of my pants, but hey, that's where the best mad comedy comes from, right? **XD**

So, with all characters belonging to their respective owners (Sega, DiC, me etc), prepare for villainous deeds, criminal crossovers aplenty, robots by the barrelful and more madness than the Upper-Class Twit of the Year Show! Have a blast!

**_"AT HOME WITH THE VILLAINS"  
_****by Professor Reginald Fortesque Vengeance (Esquire)**

**EPISODE 1  
"_MOVING DAY_"**

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, really, it was. Thunder and everything.

Anyway, we take you now to central Scotland on our dear old Planet Earth; more specifically, to Cleese Crescent, just outside Glasgow.

As you head down the street in the battering rain, you take notice of the plaque next to the gates of No.42: "_Hazardous Heights Castle_." Staring up the path protected by its tall iron doors, you see that in place of yet another bungalow, there stands a rather grand stone fortress, a tower pointing to the heavens at each of the four corners.

And in the top-most room of the highest tower, just audible over the crash of the lightning outside, is the sound of maniacal laughter.

Inside, we can see a very pimpled adolescent sitting at a writing desk. For a teenager, he is wearing very unusual attire - a full tuxedo, Clarkes school shoes (after school hours!), a high-collared cape and a tall top hat which rested on his short brown hair; all in black. We notice a wide maniacal grin on his pale face as he scribbles a few more calculations.

"Hehehehehe! As soon as I finally work out the specifications for the ultimate fighting robot, I will at last receive the recognition I truly deserve! At last, I will achieve the means necessary for world domination! At last, I will have total control _of the whole woooorld!_ AAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

Ladies and gentlemen - meet me. Professor Reginald Fortesque Vengeance. Esquire.

At first, that evening was much like any other. Just me in my study, attempting to concoct another brilliant scheme to dominate mankind. Yes, another. Much of my teen years have been devoted to villainy, but I'm yet to have any true success in global conquest. Still, it's not like I've never come close to achieving my goal before. Who do you think _really_ formed the Spice Girls?

At any rate; darkness, thunder, evil laugher, yadda yadda yadda, and suddenly, I hear the doorbell ringing downstairs. I know, how can I hear the bell ring with all the rain battering down and the noise of the storm? Easy. _My_ doorbell triggers an air raid siren in every room in the castle to make sure I hear it. It's hell come Halloween, I tell you.

"WAAH!" I quite literally jumped off my seat as the siren kicked in, landing in a messy heap with a now-broken pencil. "Blast!", I snarled, "Just when I was on a roll!" Straightening my top hat, I hopped back to my feet, grabbed the cane leaning against the desk and fumed out of the study.

Ah, my cane. Definitely my most prized possession. It looks innocent enough with its beautiful emerald green orb atop, but one twist of that orb and one of that cane's dozens of functions is activated. Sword, laser machine gun, flamethrower, helicopter blades, pogo stick, water gun, butterfly net; you name it, it's got it. It can even make tea. Or at least, fire it at anything it's aimed at.

But I digress. Having stomped down the spiral stairs in the tower with those blasted sirens still blaring into my ears, I finally made it to the main hall and wrenched open the large oak door.

Silhouetted in its frame against a flash of lightning was a man I'd known only too well. There was no mistaking that red jacket with its white lining; those black jodhpurs and boots; those blue tinted glasses; those goggles; _that_ ginger moustache...

"_Ivo?_" I exclaimed.

Indeed it was. Spherically bodied, egg-headed and looking downright panicked, Dr Ivo Robotnik was standing in my doorway.

"Reggie!" he flustered in his booming English voice, "Thank God you're here! Pouring! Attack! Hedgehog! Plane! Explosion! Ruined!"

"Calm down, man!" I insisted, "Have you gone _mad?_" Then, I remembered that he was actually meant to be a mad scientist and couldn't help feeling a tad sheepish. "Never mind. Just get in, get in!"

"Thanks, Reggie", he groaned wearily and waddled inside, soaked through to his fat.

Slamming the huge door behind him with some difficulty, I ushered the dripping doctor through to the main parlour, a standard feature of any upper-class villain's lair. Complete with expensive furniture, royal red carpeting and a large portrait of myself hanging above the blazing fireplace.

"Soon have you warmed up", I told him as we took an armchair each, "Oh, Criswell?"

At that command, a humanoid robot trundled into the room, a single large wheel replacing its legs. A tuxedo was painted onto its torso, as was black hair on its boxy head (complete with kiss curl).

"_Yes, sir?_" it inquired.

"Pot of tea on the double, Criswell", I informed it, "We have a special guest with us today and we don't want him waiting, now, do we?" The robot looked over at the Doctor and let loose a small yelp.

"_Of course not, sir_", it quivered in its tinny voice, "_Two teas, straight away_" and rolled away back out the room. Criswell knew all too well about their guest's track record with robots.

I turned back to Ivo. "Now then, what brings you all the way here? I haven't seen you since we attempted that coup at the N64 launch party."

"What do you _think_ brings me here?" he grumbled bitterly, wringing the water from his moustache, "The hedgehog, of course, that's what! He and his disgusting little friends managed to find my island base and damn near _sunk_ the whole thing using those bloody Emeralds! Every robot, every blueprint, every computer _ruined_ in a one-hit kill! It's _always_ one-hit kills now and I'm _sick_ of it! Sick, sick, _sick_!"

I let Ivo take a moment to breathe before he continued. His face needed time to return from its beetroot state.

"Anyway, the old Egg-o-Matic only just got me away in time", he continued, "With no fortress and every military unit in the country after me, I jumped continent and came here."

I held up my hand. "Before you say anymore, Ivo; one - I know where this is going and two - no."

"Oh, come on, Reggie!" begged the Doctor and attempted to do the puppy dog look. With his bizarre features, it wasn't a pretty sight. "I _know_ you've got the room and I'll only be here until the heat's off." He leaned forwards in his chair and smiled. "Come on. It'll be just like the pre-Dreamcast days. Remember all the good times we had when we allied? The thrill of the Emerald hunts? The invasions of Angel Island? Clearing _'Sonic Underground'_ for broadcast?"

I grinned fondly as I recalled the events. Those _were_ fun times and teaming up with his supreme intellect again could significantly improve my chances of finally taking over.

"Well...as long as it's for a short while..."

"Oh, Reggie, thank you!" Ivo boomed and leapt to his feet. Before another word was said, the dumpy Doctor had dashed out of the room and back into the main hall. I followed him, utterly bewildered, and watched him fling the door open. "He says it's alright! Get inside, you dolts!"

All I could do was stand by in shock as Robotnik's associates filed into the castle. First off was his vertically-challenged balding nephew, Snively. He was wearing his green chauffeur's uniform as ever (now utterly damp from the rain) and was almost being crushed under the weight of a box labelled "_Metal Sonic: handle with care_". Right behind him came lanky robotic chicken Scratch and the tank-treaded pepperpot Grounder, both getting stuck in the doorway before metal monkey Coconuts barged them through, carrying a veritable mountain of suitcases.

"What the...you didn't mention you were bringing the Goons with you too!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, well...um..." Ivo began fidgeting with his moustache. "I...ah...may have been a bit inaccurate about the number of survivors..." I gave the Doctor a menacing stare. "Oh, come on! I've told you you've got the room for us all", he reasoned, "And besides, they're a lot more sophisticated than they used to be."

A mighty clatter suddenly filled the hall and everyone jumped around for the source. Our eyes set upon Grounder, the remains of a nearby suit of armour around him and the knight's helmet stuck backwards on his head.

"Hey!" he exclaimed dimly, "Who turned out the lights?" He trundled around blindly, arms outstretched before crashing right into Scratch. The clanking chicken then fell backwards into Snively, who dropped Metal Sonic's crate with a crash before knocking into Coconuts. The monkey landed flat on his rear and the suitcases he was carrying burst open in an enormous shower of salvaged lab equipment and undergarments. And now, Metal Sonic had been awoken by his fall to earth and burst out of the crate, rushing around the hall and tearing up the place like a cobalt blue dervish. In the middle of all this, Ivo gave a weak grin.

"Trust me. That's an improvement."

I just kept staring bewilderingly at the carnage before me when Criswell trundled onto the scene carrying a silver tray with various kitchen utensils.

"_Your tea is ready, sir_", he said presently. I turned round to my robotic servant, a horrified look on my pimpled face, and simply croaked:

"I think we're going to need a few more cups..."

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

...well, how _that_ for an intro? **XD** Reviews and comments would be much appreciated as ever and stay tuned for more misadventures with the mad villains soon! 


	2. Breakfast at Vengeance's

And after such an _overwhelming_ response to my story's opening (end sarcasm **XP**), I present episode 2 for your delectation.

As a little side note, I gave Robotnik an English accent as a small tribute to his original Western voiceover, Long John Baldry from the "_Adventures of..._" cartoon, who passed away over the summer. His booming vocals and the rrrrolling of his "R"s still make me smile to this day. Rock on, Johnny.

Anyways, on with our story.

**EPISODE 2  
****"_BREAKFAST AT VENGEANCE'S_"**

Morning had broken at Hazardous Heights Castle. Groggily, I shuffled down the main staircase in tartan slippers and a black dressing gown, eyelids still heavy and yawning wide enough to happily accommodate a tennis ball in my mouth.

On my way to the dining room, I was trying to remember the dream I'd had the night before. An unusual one at that. A homeless Ivo Robotnik had shown up on the doorstep looking for a place to stay and brought some of minions along with him, whom then began accidentally destroying the main hall. Everything else was a tired blur, but what he remembered was very vivid. Almost real...

Reaching the dining room, I swung open the door, but just as I crossed the threshold, I let out a horrified yell, dropped the copy of "_Villainesque_" magazine from under my arm.

Sitting at various places on the unnecessarily long table were Robotnik and his companions. The Doctor himself was sitting alone, already fully dressed and wolfing down several plates' worth of fried eggs (what else?). Scratch, Grounder and Coconuts sat next to each other, all three robots slurping on bowls of motor oil. Snively sat furthest away from anyone, nibbling a piece of toast in a rat-like manner.

No wonder the dream seemed real. It _was_ real.

Suddenly, Snively's eyes swivelled upward and saw me framed in the doorway, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Ahhh, Sleeping Beauty finally awakens", he drawled in a bored voice, "I'm guessing you slept well, considering it's nearly 10:30."

I didn't answer and took a seat at the table. It was still a shock seeing my unusual new lodgers around the house, something I was going to have to get used to quickly.

"Ahh, Reggie!" Robotnik had finally taken a break from the eggs and greeted me with a merry wave. "Top nosh, by the way, I must say! Your robot's certainly done a bang-up job with these!"

"Yeah!" chipped in Grounder, "I haven't tasted oil this smooth since...well...ever!"

"You said it!" agreed Scratch, "It sure beats that cheap lumpy stuff we _usually_ get." At which point, a fried egg flew across the room and splattered onto the iron chicken's face.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with my oil!" Ivo snapped, "Robotnik-brand fuel cheap and provides adequate sustenance for your stupid cerebral circuits! Without it, you wouldn't even be operational as we speak!"

"But your maliciousness!" whined Coconuts, "It tastes like liquid socks and the smell sticks in my mouth for hours afterwards! _Ooo! Ooo!_ And this one time, I found a dead beetle in one of the cans and - "

Cue an egg in the face for the monkeybot.

Grounder began laughing at his simian companion. Before getting egged in the kisser himself.

"Heeey! _I_ didn't say anything!" he pouted.

"I know", snarled Ivo, "I just don't like that laugh of yours." Wishing to get out in case of a full-blown food fight arising, I felt it best to have my own breakfast as soon as possible.

"Criswell?" I called.

No reply.

"Criswell!"

Again, nothing.

"He's not here", Snively said lazily, "He left one he'd served us. Said something about picking up landmines for you at B&Q." I growled in frustration. The thought of making my own breakfast wasn't appealing, mainly due to a major lack of culinary skills. You're talking to a chap who managed to burn down his Home Economics classroom making a Caesar salad.

"Well, that's just _dandy_", I grunted and started making my way across the room to the kitchen door, "If you want something done..."

"No need for that, Reggie", said Robotnik and took hold of my arm on my way past him, "Seeing as how you've taken us in and whatnot, I thought it would be nice to let Metal Sonic do your breakfast for you. Just our way of saying thanks, you know."

"...ah", I replied simply, unsure how to take this, "...is he a good chef?"

"He could be", Ivo replied. My eyes widened. Wrong answer, Doc.

"_Could_ be"

"Look, Metal Sonic is one of the most highly advanced and intelligent robots in the entire world", Robotnik reasoned, "I'm certain a bionic brain such as his can slap up a half-decent meal."

With perfect timing, smoke began seeping out of the kitchen door.

"Great Graham Chapman!" I exclaimed and sprinted across the dining room to the source of the pollution.

Entering the kitchen was like entering a forest fire. The whole place was engulfing in thick black smoke, the smell of burning wood entering my nostrils from the work surfaces as the flames spread across them. Now launched in a coughing fit, I could just about make out Metal Sonic approaching through the darkened clouds.

"_Greetings, Professor. Everything is under control_", he said, in a voice that reminded one vividly of a little computer named HAL, and as he got closer, the smoke around him began to get blown aside. It was then I noticed that his steel hands had currently been replaced with small electric fans.

"W-what the - " I began, but never got to finish. Metal Sonic's right hand had changed to a hosepipe function and I was immediately knocked down by a blast of water to the chest.

It took me a few moments to regain my bearings. Nearly all the smoke had been cleared away by then and I could properly survey the damage done by that metallic maniac. An enormous pile of burnt toast sat to my right, while a mountain of Cornflakes stood to the left. The microwave had exploded, blasting a full tin of baked beans onto the opposite wall. The remains of crushed sausages and bacon lay scattered across the floor and there in the middle of it all was Metal Sonic, covered from head to foot in a mix of jam and marmalade.

"_Hazard neutralised_", he said calmly as his hose hands doused the last flames, "_Situation: normal._"

Normal? A psychotic android just set my kitchen ablaze, spread a great chunk of my food supplies all over the place and drenched my best dressing gown! If that was normal, then I didn't want to think about what _ab_normal was like! I was just about to tell him this when I heard a frantic cry from a certain chicken back in the dining room.

"Don't worry, Professor! We're coming!"

At once, Scratch, Grounder and Coconuts stormed into the kitchen with a bucket of water in each hand.

"No! Wait!" I cried, "It's out! Don't d-"

_SPLASH!_

Three buckets of water. All over me.

A long silence filled the room, save for the _drip_, _drip_ of water from the end of my nose. Lunatics for lodgers, kitchen nigh on destroyed and now, I was drenched in freezing cold H20.

An iffy start to the day, to put it mildly.

Looking utterly livid, my gaze fell upon the four robots. Metal Sonic slunk away to one side, leaving the remaining trio to quiver as I began towering over them.

"...um..." One of Grounder's extendable hands grabbed a piece of charred bread and feebly offered it to me. "...toast?"

I gave him a sadistic smile and slowly reached for the nearest and largest saucepan. "I know you are, but _what am I_?"

Let's just say the kitchen didn't get any cleaner and call it a day, huh?

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

And so life with the Super Special Sonic Search and Smash Squad begins! Hope you enjoyed and look forward to some feedback on my progress. 


	3. The Only Gay in the Garage

It's been a while, but I'm finally back. Good to see you all missed me. **XP**

Anyways, brand spanking new chapter for you introducing another new robot into this freaky family. Credit to 'Shadow' from the FUS forum members for letting me use him here. Ta ever so muchly.

**CHAPTER 3  
****_"THE ONLY GAY IN THE GARAGE_"**

You know, I'm certain my hair's a lot greyer than it used to be.

Though, given that I have six lunatics under my roof, it's a miracle I'm not completely bald.

It had been a week since Ivo Robotnik and his henchmen arrived at my abode, but it felt like oh-so much longer. Not only did they manage to accidently destroy my kitchen the very day after they moved in, but they since also managed to flood the bathroom, demolish the dungeon and dig up the entire garden in an attempt to get rid of one weed. Mr O'Reilly the local builder was dancing for joy when he figured out how much my repairs would cost.

This really wasn't how I thought life with Robotnik would be. I always pictured him and his minions helping me invent the most devious devices known to man, construct a mass army of killer robots and plot sinister plots for total world domination.

But when I entered the living room seven days into their stay, I caught them lounging around on the sofa and laughing at an episode of "_Sonic X_" on the TV like a group of rejected "_Mystery Science Theatre_" hosts.

"Oh dear, just _listen_ to me!" Ivo was chortling, "Is that honestly what those producers thought passed as good banter between Sonic and myself? God, this is almost on a par with all that fan fiction I've read!"

"Yeah! And those henchbots are _soooo_ stupid!" Grounder guffawed dimly as Bocoe and Decoe appeared onscreen, "They're so dumb, they don't even know we're watching them!"

"D'oh, you nincombot!" squawked Scratch and hit his drill-clad companion over the head, "Of course they can't see us! It's a cartoon!"

"And not exactly an Emmy winner at that", Snively added snootily and lazily counted off on his fingers, "Iffy storylines, horrible scripting, grating voices that make you wish you were deaf..."

"WHAT?" piped up Coconuts. I gave a small jump in surprise and saw that the mechanical monkey had unscrewed his ears and left them lying to one side.

"Oh, put those back on!" snapped Snively, "Cream hasn't had a line to say in ages! You're just being silly!"

"WHAT?" Coconuts repeated. I could only slap a palm off my forehead as the balding scientist leapt towards him with a spanner, while the rest of the villains whooped and jeered as Chris popped up on the screen.

I'd finally reached the end of my tether. I yanked the plug out of its socket and heaved the TV out the room. My fellow crooks followed me into the main hall, arguing and protesting all the while.

"What do you think you're doing, man?" demanded Robotnik, loudest of the lot, "That's no way to treat your hallowed guests!"

"And letting the cybernetic crocodiles loose from my aquarium is no way to treat your hallowed _host_!" I snapped back.

"We said we're sorry", Grounder replied, guiltily shuffling his tank treads, "I just thought they needed a little exercise."

"Well, they certainly got it!" I snarled and rolled up my trousers to reveal several large red bitemarks all the way up my legs. "And if you think that's bad, I won't even _dare_ to fill you in on the state of my caboose!" I added fiercely with a jab to my rear.

"Oh, come on, Reggie", reasoned Ivo, "One little mishap like that and..."

"It's not just one little mishap!" I growled, "The kitchen, the bathroom, the priceless suits of armour...for God's sake, you're supposed to be trying to take over the _world_! Not trying to take over my _house_!"

"OK, OK, _fine_", Scratch said impatiently, "We'll get back to the stupid world domination thing! But we lost all our plans and junk when the hedgehog destroyed our base and just where are we supposed to work? You say you're a villain and you don't even have a _lab_!"

"I did until you _blew it up on Thursday_!" I all but yelled and palmed my face again, "Perfect. Just perfect. I finally get a good evil ally back to help me out in my time of need and he's got no plans, no blueprints, no schematics and no resources! _PERFECT!_" I tilted my head towards the heavens. "Oh God, _what do I do?_"

And the front door blew open with an almighty bang.

All heads swivelled round at the stranger in the doorway. Illuminated by the sun's rays behind him, he looked almost angelic. But a second glance revealed he was anything but. He wore a horrible orange chequered suit with matching trilby hat and black trousers, a battered suitcase in one hand. His black and white shoes were unusually long and his red bow tie stretched almost as wide as his shoulders. There was something familiar about his face, as well. The glasses, the upturned snout, the permanant look of enthusiasm...

"Oh no!" exclaimed Ivo, "No! Not you again! It can't be!"

"Heyheyhey!" the stranger announced joyously and began rushing around the hall at breakneck speed shaking everybody's hand, "Howareyahow_are_ya? Wes Weasely's the name! Selling's the game! You need it, I got it! You want it, I'll get it!"

"M-m-m-maaaake h-him s-s-stooooop!" cried Coconuts, who was almost being wobbled to pieces by the salesman's handshake. That he did, when he caught sight of Ivo.

"Robotnik, baby!" he cheered and made his way over towards him, "Boy, it feels like forever! How ya been, palsie?"

"Just dandy ever since _you_ got out of my life, _Weasely_!", the Doctor snarled and refusing point-blank to accept his hand, "You and your company's pathetic inventions have caused me nothing but suffering since the day you stepped into my lair!"

"Hey, c'mon", the rodent replied with his almost fixed grin, "So there's been a little tension between us in the past. That's still not gonna stop me helping out my number one customer in his time of need!"

"What are you even _doing_ here?" I winced as I tried to massage some feeling back into my shaken hand.

"Well might you ask, my good sir", beamed Weasely and ran over to clap me on the shoulder, "You see, I was outside your establishment, inspecting your trash recepticle for adequate sustinance, and couldn't help overhearing your agonised screams of tyranical woe. Well, palsie, have we at Handy Dandy Supervillains' Appliance Distributors Limited have the perfect offer for _you_!"

Like a hyperactive child, the salesman dashed to the centre of the hall and opened up his tatty old suitcase. Like a jack-in-the-box, a tall humanoid figure sprung out and caused the villains to jump in surprise. At first glance, it seemed like a armour-plated motorcyclist - the head was domed with a simple red visor while its blue body glistened so brightly, it almost hurt the eyes.

"Lugnuts and gentlemen", Weasely announced, "Presenting the H.D.S.V.A.D.L. Series 2000 _SWATbot Deluxe_! It comes with all the basic features, of course - artificial intelligence, pure titanium shell, wrist laser blaster, heat and motion sensors..." he began pointing out the various parts, "_But_ this version also comes with increased A.I., optional arm cannon, retractable claws, built-in telephone, training weights, fuzzy dice, George Foreman drip tray - and this can all be yours for the ridiculously cheap_tac_ular price of £9999.99!"

"_WHAT?_" exclaimed Robotnik.

"I know", Weasely sighed happily, "It's almost like I'm _giving_ it away, but desperate times an' all that!"

"Yes, yes, very well", I said impatiently and plucked a chequebook out from under my top hat.

"Reggie, you can't be serious!" spluttered Ivo, "You're just going to throw your money at that...that sickly slick spiv? That thing's bound to be defective!"

"A test, then!" Weasely announced brightly. He delved deeply into his pocket and whipped out a life-size cardboard cutout of the hero of Earth and Mobius, Sonic the Hedgehog. "Go on, give it a command!"

"...OK..." I said uncertainly, "...um...sh-shoot the hedgehog?"

"_SHOOT THE HEDGEHOG!_" the SWATbot replied in its tinny monotone voice and blasted the cutout to pieces with one shot of its wrist laser.

"That's all I need", I grinned wickedly and handed over the cheque to Weasely.

"Yes! YES!" the salesman cheered and began kissing the piece of paper, "Ohooo moneymoneymoney! Daddy missed you so much! Yes, he did! Yes, he did!"

He then realised that we were all staring at him in disgust.

"Sorry", he chuckled weakly, but regained his swagger once the cheque was safely thrust into his pocket. "Well, I'd better be hittin' the ol' dusty trail! Places to go, people to see, money to spend! Thank you very much, sir! Ivo, palsie, a pleasure as always! Buhbye now! Buhbye!" and almost as quickly as he'd entered, Weasely raced out of the castle, cheering and whooping like Daffy Duck on a sugar rush.

"...wow, what a nice guy", said Grounder happily, before Scratch gave him a clout on the head.

"_Has he gone, fellas?_"

Everyone jumped and whirled around to face the SWATbot. Its voice seemed to have changed. It sounded less like a monotonous killing machine and more like...Dale Winton?

"_Oh, finally, I can be me again!_" it announced with relief, "_That sleazy little chatterbox has been trying to flog me off for ages! Apparantely, having a sunny demeanor and being a great conversationalist aren't 'must-have qualities' for a robotic henchman! Day after day, going into every single house, parading around in front of complete strangers like some sort of cheap MechaHooker! He even maked me do it in me butch voice! Can you believe him? That's my PRIVATE voice!_"

"Wha..." was about all I could muster, "...d-did it just say what I _think_ it said? What the _hell's_ wrong with it?"

"_IT has a name, you know, 'sweetheart' _", the SWATbot retorted harshly, "_Simon! Not too hard to remember, is it?_"

"Simon?" I repeated in utter confusion, "What kind of stupid name for a robot is _Simon_?"

"_It is NOT stupid! You take that back!_" the android snapped and raised a robotic hand.

"Oh, God, don't be such a drama queen", I replied impatiently.

"_Shut up!_" Simon ordered, "_Talk like a bitch and I'll slap you like one!_"

"Slap?" I spluttered, " _SLAP?_ God's sake, you're supposed to be a heartless militant mechanoid! Not a...a..._pansy_!"

**SLAP!**

"_HOMOPHOBE!_" Simon bellowed as I reeled backwards onto the floor, clutching my walloped cheek. The other robots stood around me, looked concerned. By contrast, Snively looked as bored as ever, while Ivo was simply laughing his head off.

"I warned you, Reggie!" he chortled as I pulled myself upright again, "I mean, I knew Weasely would flog you with something awful, but he's really outdone himself this time!"

"Oh, give it a rest!" I snapped and stormed upstairs, Robotnik waddling after me, still pointing and laughing. Managing to calm down, Simon made his way over to Scratch and gave one of his wings a stroke.

"_Oooo, soft_", he purred as he felt the artificial materials, "_I always felt feathers were rather...kinky..._" Trembling, Scratch leant over to Grounder.

"First thing tomorrow, I'm asking for my _own_ room", he whispered.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

And at last, another chapter is complete! Sorry it took so long and the ending seems a bit rushed, but I've had plenty on my plate over the last wee while. However, I've a special Christmas treat coming up in the next few days that will hopefully help to make up for it.

'til we meet again!


	4. Twas the Trite Before Christmas

To hell with the Political Correctness Police - _a Happy Christmas to all beings everywhere!_ **XD**

Here is my gift to all my fellow fan fic'ers. Personally, I found it great fun to write and a nice change from the story format I usually stick to. So try to enjoy my offering and season's greetings to all.

**CHAPTER 4  
****_" 'TWAS THE TRITE BEFORE CHRISTMAS_"**

'twas the night before Christmas and all through the lair

Every creature was ready for a wicked affair.

The bear net were hung by the chimney with care

In hopes that Saint Nicholas would soon be lured there.

The henchmen were nestled all snug on the roof

(Four Badniks, a dwarf and a mechanised poof)

And Ivo in nightgown and I in top hat

And tuxedo and slippers downstairs with a bat.

When out on the lawn, there was such a soiree

I sprang from the stairs to check it was our prey.

Away to the window I ran like a bolt

And looked out and scanned for the bearded fat dolt.

The moon shone above like a round cheese aglow.

'twas a bit too bright, really - it was melting the snow.

And at last, to my wondering eyes did appear

A rickety sledge and eight tired reindeer.

The large hairy driver, o'er the side being sick,

I knew in a moment was drunken Saint Nick.

More rapid than gunshots, his cursing did come

And he hollered and yelled as he sipped some more rum:

"Damn Dasher! Damn Dancer! Gay Prancer and Vixen!

Blast Comet! Sod Cupid! Screw Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the bar, to the top of the pub!

Oh, I need some - I need some - _belch_ - need some more grub!"

As the reindeer glanced over and rolled their deer eyes

The troupe did jerk upwards and caught Nick by surprise.

So up to the top of the castle, they flew

With the sleigh full of booty and drunk Nicky too.

And then, I heard shoving and grunts on the roof

The robots had sprung and had bound the deers' hooves

And as I grinned with malice, I turned round to see

Down the chimney Saint Nicholas fall painfully.

He wore vodka-stained fur, from his head to his foot

And was caught in our net, all covered with soot.

The sackful of toys he had hauled on his back

Would be sold off on eBay. Wouldn't we make a stack?

Our eyes - how they twinkled! How wickedly merry!

We'd caught that old walrus who stank of old sherry!

His magical cronies were tied up in bows

And the presents were ours to do as we chose.

But the massive cigar he held tight in his teeth

Was now glowing bright red like some sizzling beef.

I glanced his grim face as he saw Ivo's belly

Which shook, as he jeered, like a bowlful of jelly.

He had now had enough, this pissed-off old elf

And I started to fear for my personal health.

He did burst from the net and the look on his head

Immediately told us we had much to dread.

He yelled some rude words and went straight to work

Packed our stockings with coal, then turned with a jerk.

And forming two fists, we were punched on the nose

And while we writhed in pain, up the chimney he rose.

He clobbered the lackies, to his team gave a whistle

And they burst from their bonds and took off like a missile.

But we heard him exclaim, as we groaned on the floor,

"Happy Chris - shit, no booze! To the liquor store!"

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

That's one Christmas I'll be _glad_ to forget.

Next time, I celebrate the 'success' of the new "_Shadow the Hedgehog_" game, as everyone's favourite angsty gangsta invades the house feeling angrier than ever and with a score to settle with us! Personally, I'd rather have another round with Santa...


End file.
